


from yearning me, to blooming you

by enmity



Category: Persona 2, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, Innocent Sin, actually this came out more platonic but still..., u know the drill there's chikalisa and norianna in this too obv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: I used to look at you looking at her from the corner of my eye and think,I wish I could matter to someone as much as she does to you.





	from yearning me, to blooming you

**Author's Note:**

> the fact that this exists speaks volumes about my priorities rn 
> 
> anyway for context all of this references the part early on in the game where noriko confronts anna ... i was gonna add this to [the other fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385424) then realized this is the wrong pov AND tense so whoops lmfao anyway this is written quickly (as usual) and more importantly chikanori real!!!

She finds Noriko later, standing alone at the sideline where runners usually sit to cool off after practice. It’s empty, because she knows there’s no meetup today, but there’s nowhere else for Noriko to be, so – of course that’s the first place Chika thinks to look. The other girl’s shoulders pull taut when Chika’s footsteps advance, but she keeps her face turned away, towards the empty field, bleached by untempered sunlight.

The golden afternoon spills through the tree she’s sheltered beneath, but the light doesn’t make her hair sparkle, or brighten the ribbons Chika’s only seen her wear with nothing less than glowing pride. Instead, the shade almost seems to swallow Noriko whole, and it’s what makes Chika hesitate; stilling in the half-moment it takes before she decides to reach out anyway.

“Hey! Noriko-chan,” Chika prompts, lightheartedness buoying her voice. Easing the tension, making people comfortable, it’s all she’s good for. She tries, then, leaning closer into Noriko’s hair when she doesn’t reply straightaway, “…How’d it go? Is everything alright?”

Chika looks once, twice – Noriko’s eyes are bright, but they’re dry, and the color of her cheeks could have been pent-up grief, the helpless feeling of not knowing what to do, but it’s the same shade of pink Chika’s seen on her face before, from afar, flushed from the exertion of a good long run. The faint memory dredged from a time before Yoshizaka’s accident; from when all Chika saw of Noriko was of her clinging to the older girl’s sleeve, always. Always, as though there was any reason for her to fear her big sister would be taken away if she wasn’t.

Chika’s hand lingers on her shoulder. She’s not going to ask if Noriko’s been crying.

 

~

 

They make the walk out from the nearly-deserted school grounds, finding a bench not far from the vending machine they stop at for canned drinks. Green tea for Noriko, strawberry soda for Chika, and their fingertips nearly brush as Chika passes Noriko her drink, but it barely registers when they’re sitting close enough for their knees to touch. Neither of them move, even though the bench is relatively spacious, and she doesn’t mention anything about it, because it’s no big deal, really. Obviously.

Noriko pulls at the metal tab and starts to mumble something about how she _knows_ the canned variety holds no candle to the real deal in terms of health benefits, no matter what all the slogans claim – trust her, she’s read all the articles about it – and Chika’s poised to humor another one of Noriko’s ill-fated jargon-stuffed ventures to lead her to adopting a more _sustainable_ diet that she’ll forget all about the next moment, but then Noriko’s voice trails away, and she resigns to sulking quietly at the can held between her hands instead, her feet kicking a dull rhythm against one of the bench’s metal legs. Chika frowns, nudging lightly at her for lack of anything to say.

“I’m really no good, am I,” Noriko sniffs at the end of her explanation, staring at her shoes. "I couldn't help her at all."

“But…” Chika hesitates, nearly flinching at resurfacing regret, “you tried, didn’t you? It’s better than not saying anything at all,” and doesn’t add something stupid like, _it’s more than what_ I _can claim._ Because this isn’t about her, or the stupid crush she couldn’t get over – and besides, she’s not daft enough to bring it up like that. “Give her more time. I’m sure Yoshizaka-senpai will come around,” she says, though the reassurance comes out lame, and so unlike how Chikalin would sound, that she _does_ flinch this time; quickly turning away to down the last of her soda.

“I just – I don’t know. I guess … it was kinda dumb, right?” Noriko's smile is wan. “I thought I mattered to her.” Her voice dissolves into laughter with no heart.

_Back then, I used to look at you looking at her from the corner of my eye and think, ‘I wish I could matter to someone as much as she does to you’._

“I’m sure you do,” she says softly, after a moment. She leans back against the bench, looking at the sky that’s faded into a paler shade of blue. The ashen clouds shuttering the sunlight. “It’s just – it’s a hard time for her. People do things that don’t make sense when they’re under that kind of strain.”

 _I know now what a terrible thought that is to have. But it was true. I did wish so._    

Noriko’s smile is strained but her gaze looks … fond, almost. The soft way her eyes get when she’s talking about her big sister – _her_ Anna, the one constructed from threads of memory and longing, instead of the flesh-and-blood girl of the real world who coldly turned her back and pushed her away – and forgets that she’s supposed to feel sad, about all the words she’s using strictly in the past tense.

(“We used to pass by this street on our walk home after practice,” Noriko would say, smiling, her tone a touch too offhand even as her grip on her bag tightened. “Whenever it rained, I used to forget my umbrella all the time. ‘I’m going to graduate next year, you know,’ she told me once. ‘Next year, who’ll be so kind to not leave you walking home alone in the rain?’ She never did, though. She always remembered to pick me up. I never mentioned it, but I was secretly ... I was grateful. That she would give me the time of day at all.”)

Then, Noriko laughs. A genuine sound, this time, and Chika feels her expression soften, with relief or something else. She lays her hand over Chika’s, stroking the back of her palm with the fluttering gentleness of. Of a butterfly, Chika thinks. That’s what it is. “You’re such a good friend, Chikalin. I can’t believe it took so long before we started talking.”

“Well—” Chika smiles, almost a touch rueful through the amusement. But the feeling is faint. “Well, of course. She really was your whole world, wasn’t she?”

Noriko stares at the drink in her hand, her expression blank. Her other hand doesn’t leave Chika’s.

“Yeah,” she says, after a beat of silence, and squeezes. “She really was.”

 

~

 

“I thought you had to stay late because you had a story to type up. What happened to that?”

Recognition flashes vaguely over her face. “Oh! That,” Chika says. “There’s no story. It was just a ruse some Kasu guys put up to get Suou into their death metal band or something. Hanakouji told me everything.” She brightens, flicking her wrist in dismissal. “So don’t worry, you’re not making me sacrifice my work hours or anything.”

“I see.” They pause at the intersection; Chika’s house is on the opposite direction. “Thanks for walking me home. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Her voice is almost shy.

“Hasta la vista,” Chika returns, and laughs, waving her goodbye, and that’s that.  


End file.
